Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Instincts have me rearing up for a fight. My hand sails wildly before I can consider the consequences of my actions. It slaps Andrik so firmly across the face that his head slings sideways.
It does little to loosen his grip on my wrist, though.
It firms to the point of being painful, and the frozen state it prompts sees not a single protest fired when he pins me to the internal wall of the elevator by my throat.
His grip isn’t painful.
It is the most erotic way I’ve ever been held.
As he stares down at me with flaring nostrils, I try to work out why he isn’t responding how he should be. He should be pissed I struck him, or at the very least, warning me of the consequences that will occur if I do it again. His reaction, however, is on the opposite end of the spectrum. He’s smiling, and lust flares through his eyes so potently I do the last thing anyone should do when they’ve caught the focus of a madman.
I kiss him.
7
ANDRIK
Sweet. Fucking. Damnation.
One glance seared my soul, but one brush of a pair of pouty lips seals my fate.
Zoya Galdean is going to ruin me.
No ifs.
No buts.
She will ruin me, but I refuse to withdraw.
Honey lips, pert tits, and a heat I’m so impatient to have wrapped around me I don’t think about my little brother and how he only ever hands his keys to the girls he truly likes, or the deal with the devil I initiated today that should have my cock withering away instead of knocking at my zipper, vying to get free.
I don’t think about anything but the number of moans I can entice out of Zoya with a sloppy, messy kiss and how far she will let me take this now that she’s had a taste of what I can offer her.
When I pull her body flush against mine, she moans, as impatient as me and just as ready.
It isn’t solely the scent I smell shadowing her panties announcing this. The wetness that coats my fingers when I slip my hand under her skirt and rub my fingertips over the sensitive flesh between her legs is also telling.
“Fuck, милая. Is all this wetness for me?”
I don’t wait for her to answer me.
She’d only lie, and then I’d have to punish her.
I’d rather have her limp with sexual exhaustion than a tanned ass, so I inch her off the handrail hindering the natural roll of her hips, and then slowly slip a finger inside her.
“Tight. So fucking tight.”
My thumb circles her clit, once again stealing her rebuttal.
“Don’t be ashamed. The tighter you are, the fewer men I’ll have to track down once I’ve had my fill.”
She watches me with hooded, dilated eyes as I slowly pump in and out of her. I don’t do gentle. Lovemaking isn’t my specialty, though the flare of Zoya’s nostrils when I treat her with a delicacy she was certain I didn’t hold has me in no hurry to mix things up.
I take my time, loving how her cunt sucks at my finger as freely as her delicious scent lingers in my nostrils.
“How many men am I seeking, милая?”
I slant my head to hide my smile when she says with a moan, “None.”
Lying to me is usually punishable by death.
She won’t face the same level of wrath—purely because I know she is lying for me, not the insolent fools who let her go. She’s afraid my jealousy will have me pulling on the reins, stopping a train God himself couldn’t slow.
She has no reason to fret.
Even as I was placing the pieces on the chessboard for a verified win, she didn’t leave my mind for a second. I palmed my cock as often today as I did the first time I visited a strip club.
I was eleven during my inaugural visit to my uncle’s club, so I had the perfect excuse for my dick popping up to say hello.
Today, I had no damn excuse.
And the remembrance pisses me off so much I get arrogant.
“One?”
I watch Zoya like my palm isn’t coated with her juices, and her moans don’t have me on the cusp of coming in my pants like a soft cock who has never sampled an untouched cunt.
When her face gives nothing away, I say, “Two?”
She doesn’t twitch, glower, or flinch.
She just moans.
“Three? Are there three notches on your bedpost, милая?”
I finger fuck her harder when a flare darts through her eyes. It isn’t a confirming glint, more a flicker announcing I’m getting close to her body count.
“Four?”
Her eyes snap to mine so fast I get the answer I’m seeking without a word spilling from her lips.
She looks embarrassed. It better be because she’s worried I’ll think her count is too high and not because she’s ashamed of the low figure she amassed in the prior decade or so.